One Way or Another
by MayBlitz
Summary: Of Tim's mid-teens and how he wound up joining the army. "Well dad quit drinkin', and being violent and he got a job. We had the kitchen re- done last week and I'm shittin' fuckin' rainbows. How do you think it's goin?" Warning for language and mentions of off-screen violence.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I actually thought all this up in one go, then the little details came in during the writing.  
Just my guess at how he ended up where he did.  
Note: All actual abuse will be mainly off camera, I believe the reader's imagination works better for this sort of thing, those of you who have hardcore ideas can go ahead and think that's what happened and those of you with sensitive minds will be able to keep them that way. **

Tim woke up at seven o'clock on the dot. He'd got into the habit of waking-up early (usually with a start an a panicked look at the clock) to avoid his father. If he woke up any later than seven he'd just have to leave through the window and hope the man wasn't actually looking for him.

He got up quickly, getting dressed in whatever he found lying around (he really needed to ask Mrs Roberts, his next door neighbor, to wash some things for him), and ran his hands through his hair to untangle it.

He then made sure it was covering a certain part of the right side of his face, to hide what he guessed was now an angry looking purple bruise. He'd actually grown his hair out for that sole purpose.

He heard a crashing sound from downstairs and took that to be his cue, his threw a rucksack over his shoulder and headed to the windows and the convenient tree that grew right by it. He threw the bag down then lowered himself onto the branches.

He didn't need to use his hands to balance anymore, having had so much practice at getting out this way. Hell, in one particularly tricky situation he'd just jumped straight out, it was possible, just not that great of a landing considering the amount of metal scraps and junk that was littered around the postage stamp of a 'garden'. I was an embarrassment really, the rest of the neighborhood actually looked quite nice.

He picked up his bag and easily hoped over the fence. He headed to the house next door, knocked three times, paused then knocked another two. He waited for a moment then the slot in the door opened and a hand appeared. He handed a now melted icepack bag over and the slot closed again.

That was Mrs Abbott, she'd suffered from agoraphobia for as long as Tim could remember. she couldn't even open her front door without having a nervous breakdown now, but she was sympathetic. They'd worked out a knocking system, three then two meant he was giving something back, one, then two meant he was in need of an icepack if not other medical supplies, and five all in a row, he hadn't used that one in a while now, meant she should call an ambulance over.

Or at least that's how it was in Tim's mind, he suspected that the fact that they hadn't had glass in their living room windows for over five years might enable her to guess just what he was coming over for but he liked the idea of secret door knocks.

He was halfway down the street when a car, that had been coming up behind him, slowed right down and started driving along side him, the driver was looking at him closely. Tim frowned, and stopped wondering what the hell was going on.

The car stopped, too and cut it's engine. A man in his early twenties got out, well dressed and groomed with dirty blond hair and light eyes.

"Tim?" Asked the man, as he stepped closer. Tim looked a little confused, then it clicked.

"Mike?" He asked, recognizing his older brother by seven years, the man nodded, "They kick you out of med school?"

Mike rolled his eyes, he'd left for college when Tim had been ten, and he could hardly recognize his brother, who would be what? Sixteen now? He smiled, that wasn't to say he wasn't still an obnoxious little brat.

"No...I came to see you," Replied Mike, feeling a little awkward now, they'd never been close but he was headed down this way anyway and something nagged at him to check in, "How are...things?"

Mike had got himself a scholarship in New York, and Tim noticed he'd started speaking like a Yankee. He gave his brother a deadpan look, "Well dad quit drinkin', and being violent and he got a job. We had the kitchen done last week and I'm shittin' fuckin' rainbows. How do you think it's goin'?"

Mike inwardly cringed, looking away, "Hey, maybe I could help?" He'd got his bachelor's degree last year and had managed to get a decent job on top of his scholarship, so he could afford a few expenses.

"Nah, I'm good," Drawled Tim, sounding uninterested.

Tim turned to leave but Mike pulled him back, getting a better look at the bruising on the side of his face.

"Tim, I'm sorry, I never knew...I didn't realize ," Started Mike, he saw a falter in Tim's glare, but it was just a flicker.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure it never even crossed your mind."

Mike was at loss for words, in his defence back then his dad hadn't been anywhere near as bad, it'd just be the odd outburst, and he'd apologize to Tim the next morning and hug him and tell him it would never happen again. The first time Tim believed him, the second as well, hell third and fourth, too. He still really wanted to believe it the fifth and sixth. Then it really sunk in, that life was only going to get worse, especially once his brother had gone.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, "Well, it was lovely seeing you, but I've got to go now." Said Tim, Mike cringed a little at the obvious sarcasm. He nodded, understanding that he shouldn't have expected things to be any different.

"I'll check back in on my way back up."

"Whatever," Muttered Tim as he continued on down the street.

He met up with his friend Steven in the park.

"What the hell happened to you?" Asked Steve with a grin on his face, he knew full well what had happened, but Tim hated people feeling sorry for him, and Steve had somehow turned this into a laughing matter. He'd ask every time he saw Tim covered in bruises and Tim had to come up with an utterly unlikely excuse.

"Liv Tyler found out I was double timing her with Dina Meyer," Replied Tim, grinning back as his friend whistle, pretending he actually believed it.

"Invite me next time, man,"

They looked around to check no one was around then Steve spoke again, "Alright, you up for the usual?"

"Sure," Replied Tim.

They got a 'job', it wasn't exactly legal, but it wasn't that bad either. They did help some locals run drugs but never had any hand in it either. Their role consisted in 'distracting' law enforcement, while the real supplies were being moved. Whether they pretended to be breaking the law or just taunted officers into chasing them depended on the day.

It was actually a highly entertaining job, having usually overweight, unfit cops chase after you, knowing full well you'd never get caught. Tim's favorite trick was running into a dead end, just to see their faces light up with glee at the thought of finally catching him, only to be disappointed when he either ran up a fire escape they'd never be able to haul themselves up, or easily climbed a 16 foot fence and leaving them cursing on the other side.

He was so good at his job he didn't even have to 'make' them give chase anymore, he was a 'chase on sight' subject now. The pay wasn't too shabby either.

The downside was that he had to make a run for it every time he came across law enforcement, which was sometimes harder than others depending on just how mean his father had been feeling the day before. One time he'd had to dive head first into the river to get away, and that had happened in January, which was a nice time to go swimming.

He had actually tried getting a legitimate job, but there was so many times where he had to call in sick, or couldn't really be allowed to deal with customers because of his bruises that he'd just given up. This was a lot more fun anyhow.

Today he pulled the fence trick again, laughing as he heard the cop calling him a little shit as he ran off down the street. He didn't notice the clean cut man across the street who had watched the scene and walked over the cop.

"Who is that Kid?" He asked the cop, who was trying to get his breath back, at least this Tim he hadn't made an ass of himself by trying to climb the fence after him.

"Timothy fucking Gutterson," Ground out the cop, the man looked surprised.

"If you know his name, why do you waste your time chasing him? You could just pick him up at home."

"I did that, few years ago, kid wasn't home, so I spoke to the father. Next day the kid's in hospital, claiming he 'fell down the stairs' and then 'felt dizzy and must have walked into the window'. I don't wanna have to clean up a murder." Replied the cop, the man frowned, he'd come across cases like these before.

"Yet you don't do anything about it?"

"What can be done? Sure I could call in child services, and he can end up in a foster home _if_ they get him out of there fast enough."

Tim jogged back to the park, grinning as he saw Steve was already there.

"Who'd you get?" He asked Tim.

"Henderson, you?"

"Garcia," Replied Steven, he then let out a low whistle, "School is out!"

Tim turned to follow his gaze and saw Tina Parish walking down the lane along with her best friend Adriana Danieli. Tim rolled his eyes.

"Like you got a chance," He muttered, his friend grinned at him.

"I can dream can't I?" Responded Steven, still eying the two girls, they went to the same school, well when they actually bothered showing up, and were in the same year. Tina, especially, was the typical 'queen bee', nothing much on personality, but always looked as though she'd just stepped out of a magazine cover. As teenage boys, they both appreciated that much.

"Oh, shit," Cursed Tim, catching sight of Henderson hurrying towards them.

"Have fun," Called Steven, as Tim run off.

The two girls saw him as he made it to the bridge which had been built in place of crossing, since the small town was ill-equipped for a main road to be passing through they'd built a bridge over the road, to allow pedestrians to cross without having to worry about traffic. Tim was on one side, Henderson was on the other.

Henderson knew that if he crossed over, Tim would just run away down the street, if Henderson attempted to cross the busy street, Tim would just cross the bridge. He'd had quite enough for one day, with a shrug and a sigh he left.

Tim grinned and casually walked back over to the bench Steven was still hogging.

"You've never actually been caught, have you?" He asked Tim, who grinned and shook his head. Both girls had watched the scene with amusement and flashed him a smile as they went passed. He did his best to look utterly indifferent.

It was eight o'clock by the time Tim arrived in front of his house. He saw the lights were on inside and cursed. He really didn't want to go in, he could always go up the tree and through his window but he was starving and didn't feel like sitting upstairs waiting to creep down for something to eat.

Mrs Roberts popped her head over their common fence and, seeing his dilemma, immediately insisted he came over to her house for dinner.

**A/N: Here's the first chapter, hope you enjoyed it! It's not going to be overly long, but they'll be quite a bit more coming. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay Chapter two! I'd originally intended for the story to go a lot quicker, and most of this chapter didn't exist, but then I got more ideas and decided to expand. Hope you'll enjoy!**

SassyJ: At least we know he works out okay in the end. :) Thanks! I'd hoped my writing would get a little better as continued.

ArodLoverus2001: He'll be okay in the end, just has a long way to go. I actually feel terrible writing this, but as least we know he's always got some sarcastic comment in his mind whatever happens to him!

Guest: Whoever you may be, glad you liked it, your wish is granted! 

He wanted to refuse the offer, but his stomach started growling in protest and he agreed, thanking her. It's not that he had anything against Mrs Roberts, kinda bland but nice enough, plus she was one hell of a cook. Mr Roberts was alright, too, if a bit of a neat freak. Honestly he'd probably eat there every night (they'd told him he was always welcome) if it wasn't for their daughter Rebbecca.

She'd been fine until she'd turned twelve, then she'd started making eyes at him, he'd just ignored her at the time, hoping she'd move on and start harassing someone of her own age. That was a year ago, she had yet to move on and, if anything, had only got worse.

He dodged several questions about school, and home, sat a little sideways in chair so that Rebbecca could no longer reach his legs with hers, had dinner and left.

The lights in his house were finally off by then.

The next morning his alarm woke him up at five, as planned, he crept downstairs to check yesterday's mail, hoping his father hadn't done so already. Luckily he hadn't, presumably having got tired of wading through so much junk mail. He found a "last warning" reminder to pay the water bill and the welfare check.

He took them upstairs and shoved them in his bag, there'd be easily enough to cover it, if he could talk them out of the late payment fees. He had a quick shower and made his way out of the window, just to be safe.

He got to the bank at opening time as it was quite a way away from his house. It was surprisingly crowded for this time of day and he groaned as he started waiting in line, trying to guess which clerk he'd end up with.

He knew the one in the middle, not personally, but he'd seen him working here every time he'd come so far. That was the one he ended up with when his turn came, he was a slightly overweight, graying man with a mustache. The pink shirt and baby blue tie didn't help.

Tim gave him the check he wanted to cash in as well as asking for a withdrawal to cover the water bill. The man frowned at him when he handed over his ID.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked, as he started counting out the cash and slid it over to Tim.

"Shouldn't you have been promoted by now?" Tim shot back, pocketing the cash and walking out.

He was luckier with the water bill, they'd put a very sympathetic, mid thirties woman who obviously wanted kids, on reception. Tim made up a story about a tragic car accident last week and she agreed to let the fees slide.

He then headed all the way back across town to 'his' school. He leaned on the outer fence and waited for a while, eventually a young man in his early twenties walked down the street, Tim straightened up and the man 'accidentally' bumped into him, apologized and walked on, not before slipping Tim a fifty dollar bill.

Tim grinned and was about to leave when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see a wiry teenager with wildly curly dark hair, thick glasses and a few too many zits running towards him. Allan Brandon, smart kid, not so good at getting on with others, not really through any fault of his own, he was just a sensitive kid in a tough place and didn't have stature or charm to help him out.

Tim sighed, waiting for him to catch up, Allan took a while to get his breath back, reminding Tim he had asthma working against him too, and also taking time to notice he was, in fact, wearing sandals. Well this was going to be good.

"I'm so glad you came back!" Said Allan, finally breathing properly again, he noticed Tim's dubious look at his footwear, "Bosco's got worse, he started out a few weeks ago, asking for protection money, to protect me from himself, but he keeps putting the price up and yesterday I couldn't afford it, so he stole my shoes and shut me in a locker. I'm claustrophobic."

Tim raised an eyebrow at him, and he continued, "That means that you're scared of incl-"

"I know what it means," Interrupted Tim, "The hell am I supposed to do about it?"

"Talk to him? Please? He never bothered you."

"Fine, fine," Sighed Tim, changing direction and heading for the school instead. It was strange walking in after two months, The people who recognized him seemed to think so, too.

He walked up to a boy his age, who was sitting at a wooden table outside; David Ray, at sixteen he was already over six feet tall, and was widely considered to be the meanest, scariest bastard in school. Tim had found out that was just the impression he liked to give, and that he was actually a really nice guy.

Tim tapped him on the shoulder lightly, David removed on of his headphones and looked up, glaring, he was surprised when he recognized Tim and smiled.

"'Sup? Been a while."

"Actually, need you to do me a favor," Replied Tim, David looked like he was thinking about it.

"What would I have to do?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing much, just stand behind me and look like you normally do," Said Tim, grinning, David nodded and stood up, following Tim into the main building.

He managed, with a lot of help from David, to change the terms of Bosco's tyrannical schemes. It wasn't that hard, he was a bully, but he wasn't the brightest of lights, and Allan was more than happy to have to write an extra essay every week instead of getting beaten to a pulp.

On his way out he ran into Tina, who came over to have a chat with him. He played a very small part in said conversation, just nodding along while she spoke, barely being able to keep up with the endless chatter. Finally the bell rang, she left for class and he walked out of the school.

She'd told him about her cat having to be put down, mentioning at least three times that she'd dumped Roger because he'd been insensitive about it, and then gone on to talk about the new bag she'd bought. He couldn't really relate to any of it, he'd never had a pet, unless you counted the large spider that lived in far corner of his bedroom ceiling, he'd named it Boris, as for bags and break-ups he really didn't have much experience. He pretended to understand perfectly though and she went away smiling while he appreciated just how tight her jeans were. It was win-win really.

He then decided to go home. He'd been avoiding his father for three days straight now, but had to make an appearance every once in a while else his father would get pissed off at him for "sneaking around" and "being devious and secretive". On the other hand, being at home too much meant he was 'lazy' and 'a dead weight'. Quite a hard balance to keep, he still hadn't got it quite right, but the afternoon was usually the best time to show up. The hangover would have worn off, he'd usually be eating, and wouldn't have started the drinking cycle yet.

As soon as he walked through the door, Tim knew it had been a bad idea.

"Close the goddamn door, you're making it drafty!" Shouted his father from the kitchen.

"Right, because it's the door, not the broken window that's causin' the draft," Muttered Tim, under his breath.

"The hell did you just say?" Asked his father, Tim bit his lip.

"Nothin',"

He made to go upstairs but got called back down into the kitchen.

"You trying to be smart?"

'Wouldn't dream of it,' Thought Tim, "No," He said simply, knowing not to push his luck, which seemed to be fading fast as it was.

"You cash the check this mornin'?" His father asked, looking Tim straight in the eye.

'So you _do_ actually know what day it is?', "Yep," Replied Tim. He'd occasionally let his thoughts slip out loud, which had led to dire consequences, and now resorted to bitting his tongue in between responses. The way he saw it, it really wasn't his fault, some people were born with a stutter, others had a knack for giving public speeches. He had sarcasm.

"Then why the hell was there a three hundred dollar withdrawal this morning?" Challenged his father, taking a step forward. It took all Tim had not to step back, but stepping back meant he'd be grabbed, and being grabbed just accelerated the inevitable.

Tim managed to pull himself upstairs a few hours later. He'd tapped into the third of a bottle of Bourbon he'd stolen from his dad a few months ago. It wasn't a good idea, but it was easily accessible unlike painkillers.

Not being used to a regular intake of alcohol meant it only took a couple of shots to give him a buzz. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped though the numbers until he came to the number his brother had left him. Normally he would have thought twice, if not more, but the whiskey allowed to press the call button.

"Hello?" Came the voice through the receiver.

"Yeah, it's me," Replied Tim, toying with the bottle in his hand as he sat slumped back against the door. Occasionally he'd glance up at Boris the spider was had just caught himself a nice juicy fly.

"Tim? You sound strange, are you okay?" Asked Mike, a worried pang in his voice, Tim laughed.

"It's just the accent, you lost the habit of hearin' it," Replied Tim, Mike wasn't convinced, but let it slide as Tim continued, "Actually I was just callin' to ask a question. Dad ever take this shit out on you?"

He was met with an awkward silence in response, "Huh, I thought not. Any idea why?"

"Tim..." Started Mike, not sure of what to say, "I'm not sure this...It's really not a conversation to be had on the phone."

"Too bad, I need to know," Snapped Tim, he had another mouthful from the bottle, Mike could hear the sound of the liquid swilling around in the bottle well enough to get an idea of the situation.

"You remember the night mom went out in the storm after they argued?" Started Mike.

"No, why would I remember the night our mother died?" Asked Tim sarcastically, Mike ignored him and continued.

"Well, you were way to young to register what the argument was about..."

"But?" Pushed Tim, getting a little annoyed.

"I think dad thought she was cheating on him," Finished Mike, Tim frowned, this wasn't an answer, and the alcohol had muddled his brain more than he care to admit.

"So? That's my fault?"

Mike sighed, "No, none of it is your fault...I just think that maybe dad thought you weren't..his. Then, there's the fact that that was the argument that made mom leave and have the accident..." Mike trailed off waiting for a response. After a few minutes of silence he spoke again, "Tim? Look I'd really have preferred to talk about this in person-"

"You think I am his?" Tim cut him off.

"It doesn't really matter-"

"I fuckin' hope I'm not," Muttered Tim, taking another drink.

"Have you considered..Talking to someone?" Suggested Mike, already knowing what the answer would be.

"You mean a shrink? Why? Nothin' wrong with me, it's the rest of the world that's fucked up," Tim shrugged, cringing slightly as he did so, "Look, I'm gonna crash out now, thanks for the info."

Tim hung up without waiting to an answer. He briefly considered getting up and going to bed, but it seemed much too far away right now. Plus the floor didn't seem all that uncomfortable.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that, slightly more on the drama side of things, but I wanted to flesh the situation out a little before starting to make changes.**

I may not be able to update either story in the next few days as I have a lot of spooky horses to move across town, but I will update as soon as I can, provided I don't die! 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter 3! It took a while, but I'm quite pleased I waited to get the right ideas instead of rushing into things. **

**ArodLoverus2001: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too. **

**SassyJ: Thanks for saying that, I'm very pleased if I actually manage to tell the story well enough. I've been trying to balance out the good and the bad, as well as keeping him in character. This chapter doesn't move the story on so much as it sets the scene for the next chapter, hopefully you'll like it though!  
**

**Guest: Thank you! I'm still working on my writing skills, so very much appreciated! Here's more:**

Tim woke up the next morning and groaned in pain, his head hurt almost as much as the rest of his body. He glanced at his bed, wishing he could just go back to sleep and pretend none of this really existed, but that really wasn't a good idea. He pulled himself up, rolling the leftovers of the Bourbon bottle under the bed and headed for the shower.

As a luxury, because he felt he needed it, he allowed himself a full three minutes of hot water. He'd half hoped the sudden change from hot to cold might actually rid him of his hangover. It didn't. As he stepped out, avoiding looking in the mirror, his father's old rusty razor caught his eye, last night's conversation with his brother floated back into his mind.

He went into his room, quickly dressing and grabbing two old freezer bags that had previously served to contain ice cubes. Pulling the tweezers out of the cabinet he plucked as many hairs as he could off the razor and dropped them in the first bag, sealing it. He then got the scissors, cutting a sixth of a inch of his own hair and placed it into the second bag.

He place both bags in his rucksack and made his way out of the window. His jump down from the tree went just fine, aside from the pain in his ribs, but he threw up immediately afterwards, the sudden change of altitude mixing badly with his hangover. Oh well, not much lost, it's not like he'd had dinner last night or anything.

It took him thirty minutes to make arrive at his destination, it would have been quicker, but he was pretty sure he had a cracked rib, which gave him a sharp sting with each step. He soon heard approaching footsteps, stepped away from the concrete wall he'd been leaning on.

Allan almost jumped out of his own skin. Tim would have laughed had he not gone into full blown asthma attack mode and proceeded to ravage his inhaler.

"Anyone would think you had something to hide," Muttered Tim, once Allan had somewhat got his breath back.

"Everyone picks on me, you'd be the same," Replied Allan, a little indignantly.

"People pick on me all the time, why'd you think I can run so fast?" Said Tim, grinning, although he kept his head a little lower than usual so that the shade of his hair would hide what he imagined to be the state of his face. He felt a little strange when he realized he'd actually much prefer to be beaten up by fellow students, somehow it seemed easier to deal with.

"I have exercise-induced bronchoconstriction, so that would only make it worse, but I'm guessing you're not here to sympathize with my medical issues,"

Tim realized he was, possibly, making Allan late for school, hence his bad mood. Of course by late he meant 'not a full fifteen minutes early'.

"I need a favor, your dad still works at the lab, right?" Asked Tim, pulling his bag open, when Allan hesitantly nodded. He handed Allan the two freezer bags, "Need you to get a paternity test on these."

Allan took the bags awkwardly, giving Tim a dubious look, but he knew he had to comply. He put the bags inside his own backpack and rooted around for something else, pulling out a small folded paper.

"Here, I was told to give you this," He handed the note to Tim who unfolded it, and raising an eyebrow when he saw a phone number with 'call me' written underneath, obviously a girl's writing.

Tim could feel Allan looking at him and instinctively met his eyes, regretting it when Allan's eyes opened wide. He glanced from the freezer bags to Tim, who glared at him, knowing full well just how smart that kid was.

"For what it's worth," Started Allan, "I'm adopted."

"Lucky you," Mutter Tim, turning to leave, knowing full well how insensitive that was, but really not in the mood to care, "Run those tests!" He called back before rounding the corner.

Tim had to bite his tongue not to yelp when his friend Steve came up behind him and clapped him on the back, saying, "Party on Fourth tonight, college job, wanna gate crash it?"

"Yeah, no. I'll pass," Replied Tim, the acute pain in his ribs finally subsiding.

"C'mon, I can hardly go by myself," Insisted Steve, Tim stopped walking and turned to look at him straight in the face, "Oh. Ouch," Conceded Steve.

"How bad is it?" Asked Tim, not certain he wanted to know, Steve was only just starting to believe Tim actually didn't check for himself.

"You remember last Spring, just before the school trip?"

"That bad?" Asked Tim, sounding a little worried, it didn't feel that bad.

"Oh, no, hell no. This is nothing compared to ..._that, _all I'm sayin' is, you went anyway."

Steve grinned and Tim scowled.

"Not funny," He muttered as he started walking.

"It was. Really, shoulda seen the look on your face. Plus that was revenge for convincing me animal crackers had actual animals in them."

"I was eight, and you were incredibly stupid," Countered Tim, although he smiled at the memory.

"Still, you totally ruined my childhood. I was such an angel before you came along," Said Steve, barely able to hold a straight face.

Tim rolled his eyes, mainly because he knew how painful laughing would be, "I'm sorry, who got the air riffle to shoot my fat ass next door neighbor when he he decided to sunbathe naked?"

They both laughed, replaying the scene in their minds. It had be priceless, unfortunately they'd had nothing to film it with. Tim noticed Steve's expression darken a little and frowned. He knew he'd just remembered what had happened after that, when they'd been caught. Steve thought he'd had it bad until he'd seen Tim after being grounded for week.

"So, about that party?" Said Steve, changing the subject, as he'd learned was the best thing to do.

"Not gonna go," Replied Tim, "Really don't think I can drink today, or ever again, actually."

"Hangover that bad?"

Tim nodded, "Guess you can't tell, huh?" He asked grinning as he pointed at his face, Steve had to make an effort to return the smile. He could understand why Tim behaved the way he did, but sometimes Steve would rather he'd just be honest about how he felt, instead of just joking.

"Want to come over to my place tonight instead? My sister's home, but my mom'll be out with her new boyfriend."

"I dunno. She over her feminist craze, yet?" Asked Tim, not having fond memories of the two hour lecture he got last time he was there.

"Oh, yeah, she's changed into an over analytical hippie now," Replied Steve.

Steven's sister, Lisa, was at home sitting in front of the TV as they entered the house, she looked up as they came in and smiled at them. Steve muttered an indifferent 'hey', and Tim gave her a very suspicious look.

Her smile broke into a grin, "Relax, I'm not going to say anything unpleasant," She reassured, he didn't look entirely convinced, but did actually walk forwards a little.

"Or show me any disturbing pictures of child birth, which by the way, I still can't 'unsee'?" Asked Tim, still not 'that' far away from the front door.

"Promise," She replied, still smiling, "I'm over all that. Now I'm into hostile female takeover using castration as punishment."

Tim looked at her then promptly turned around and made for the door, she ran after him, much to Steve's amusement, "Tim, I'm joking," She said grabbing his shoulder and directing him back into the living room.

"I don't get it, you guys watch the goriest, most violent horror films without batting an eyelid, but one chick giving birth and you run away screaming," She sighed, pushing him into the kitchen where Steve was rummaging through the fridge.

"Fiction. Reality." Replied Tim, matter of factly, "Can we stop talking about this?" Steve offered Tim the bag of chips he'd just opened, "Thanks, I just lost my appetite."

"You're such a baby," Said Lisa, leaving to return to her TV show. Tim waited until she was installed on the couch then came over to lean behind her, watching for a few minutes before saying, "Oh, is this part when he finally tells her he loves her?"

She looked up at him, surprised, "Yeah, actually, you-" She stopped, as he lost his focus and snickered, "You're an asshole," She muttered.

He laughed, getting up, "Well that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a while."

She frowned, knowing it was probably half true, he rolled his eyes at her, "Lighten up, seriously, these shows are making you over dramatic."

He walked back to the kitchen, and left her feeling like a spoiled brat for actually daring to complain about her life. She flipped the TV off and followed the boys upstairs, Steve's door had been left open so she poked her head in and leaned on the wall. There was still a long standing argument about her being allowed to 'set foot' in his room.

"So what are you boys doing tonight?" She asked, they looked up at her, Steve groaned.

"And along comes the babysitter," Muttered Tim.

"I was actually going to say I'd allow rule breaking so long as it stays controlled and contained," She retorted, smiling.

Tim and Steve exchanged a look.

"So you think it's a trap?" Asked Steve, raising an eyebrow.

"It feels like a trap," Replied Tim, Lisa rolled her eyes at the both of them.

They wound up playing Lisa's own version of drinking grab snap which she'd learned from a college friend of hers. They all had a third of a deck of cards and placed one down every round. If the two cards were of the same suit, they all had to make a grab for the ball which was set on the middle of the table. The two who were too slow would have to take a swig of beer and divide the pile of cards between themselves.

Tim was a little reluctant at first, due to his subsiding, but still fairly unpleasant hangover. They managed to talk him into it, and he found out that, halfway through his first beer, he was feeling just fine again.

Eventually they stopped the game and just stuck to drinking, moving to the living room instead. There was a lull in conversation when Tim and Lisa turned to see Steven had fallen asleep. She quickly moved to catch his beer before he dropped it and placed it on the table, stifling a laugh.

She made her way back to the couch and sat down next to Tim again, probably a little closer than was appropriate. He didn't even seem to notice. The lights weren't on very high, but the muted TV would occasionally light the room up, giving her a better look at the bruises on his face.

"You fall over again?" She asked, breaking the silence, he turned his head, noticing she was looking at him, he frowned.

"No," He replied, a little tightly, fixing his eyes on the silent TV, "I went to concert, things got rough."

She nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "Well, at least your excuses are getting better."

He snapped his eyes back to her, "You wanna say somethin', then just fuckin' say it."

"Your dad beats you up." She replied softly, refusing to flinch.

"So what? I don't make a big deal out of it. Why the fuck does everyone else want to-"

"People care. Maybe you should, too." She interrupted, he rolled his eyes at her, she didn't miss the way he swallowed a little stiffly after though, nor the way he was now avoiding eye contact.

"Hey," She continued, a lot more softly, rubbing his arm with her hand, "Things'll work out, they always do."

"Uh, sure, I hear you're supposed to keep thinkin' that," He muttered, finally facing her just to give her his signature 'like I give a fuck' look, which actually made her want to cry.

She couldn't help it, she leaned forward and kissed him, careful not to brush his bruise with her hand as she ran it through his hair. It took him a moment, but he responded, that is until she moved her hand under his shirt at which point he moved away in pain.

She winced, carefully lifting his shirt to expose a very angry looking purple and red bruise around his ribs. She was surprised he'd let her, he usually did a very thorough job of staying covered up, even in mid-summer heat waves.

"It's broken," She said, he rolled his eyes, having come back to his sense, and pulled his shirt back down.

"It's not, I've had a broken rib before, hurts way more than that."

They stayed in semi-awkward silence for a moment, before Tim stood up, "Probably a good thing anyway, Steve would of killed me."

She laughed, "Actually I think he'd have been more pissed off with me."

They both looked at Steve who was still sound asleep on the armchair.

"With him still in the room? Shit we'd have to run to Mexico," Said Tim, she nodded in agreement and they once again fell into a fairly uncomfortable silence.

"So, this never happened, right?" He asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Couldn't agree more."

"Cool," Tim turned and gave Steve a kick in the leg, he awoke with a start, "Time to wake up, there's no way I'm carrying you upstairs," Steve looked around, a little dazed, trying to work out why his sister looked a little guilty, as Tim walked up the stairs, "Oh, and if you feel sick, remember I'm sleeping on the floor to the _right_ of your bed, so go left," Tim called down from upstairs.

**A/N: Here it is. At least Tim sort of caught a break here.  
Hope you enjoyed it! Little slower, as I mentioned, but that's life for you! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's chapter 4, this was a real bummer to write, as in it literally depressed me. **

**ArodLoverus2001: Yup, gotta give him something good once in a while, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, there's going to be a lot of 'poor Tim' ahead in this next one!**

**SassyJ: I felt he needed a bit of a helping hand, despite the fact he probably won't take it. Glad you liked it. This next one is going to be a downer, though...**

Tim woke up early, with his usual panic, which subsided as soon as he realized where he was. He got up, one look at the loudly snoring Steve told him he'd be out a while yet. He hadn't been able to go home to pick a change of clothes up yesterday so he helped himself out of Steve's closet. The guy had way too many clothes anyway, which he actually never wore, usually just switching between two different outfits.

He stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him, he was just walking past Lisa's door when it opened.

"I thought I heard you get up," She started, then handed him a blue plastic pot, "Put that on your bruises, should help. I used to have to cover Steve in this stuff when he came back from a day with you."

He raised an eyebrow, but took it, "Thanks?"

"If you can't reach your back and stuff, call me, I'll help you," She said helpfully, then realized how wrong it sounded by the look Tim gave her.

"Have you considered buying a van and handing out candy?" He asked, laughing at her expression.

"Oh shut up!" She snapped, although she realized it was a little funny, she added a lot quieter, in case Steve was awake, "I was drunk, and you're legal, actually."

"Under 510.120(d) it is 'sexual abuse in the second degree,' a Class A misdemeanor, for a person over 21 to have sex with anyone under 18 for whom he or she provides a foster home," Recited Tim, she gave him a stunned look, and he grinned, "My old neighbor was pedophile, knew all the laws. Anyway, thanks," He held up the little pot, "But I think I can manage just fine on my own."

She was left a little stunned, as he walked past her on his way down the hall, "I never suggested sex," She called after him, once she'd recovered herself.

Tim turn to look at her as he opened the bathroom door, "Uh, sure, I'm gonna be lockin' the door anyway."

He left shortly after, not bothering to wake Steve up, but he did enjoy embarrassing her by giving her an over the top wink on his way out. He wasn't going to let her live this one down any time soon.

He headed the same way he did yesterday, to intercept Allan on his way to school. This time he didn't sneak up on him, it had been fun the first few times, but he was actually in a good mood and wasn't feeling terribly devious.

"Did you get the tests through?" Asked Tim, as he approached, Allan nodded, handing him the piece of paper he got out of his bag.

He opened the paper and scanned over it, feeling his stomach churn as he read the result. It was positive. So his dad was his dad. He muttered a shaky thanks to Allan and walked off in a hurry.

Did this make it worse? He couldn't work it out, he couldn't work out if he'd have felt better had it been negative. He couldn't work out why he actually cared so much either. Maybe he was trying to make excuses for his father's behavior in some subconscious form? Or for himself, a way to justify his intense hatred for the man, which had always felt wrong, but oh so mutual.

Whatever. It was he'd obviously kidded himself into thinking knowing the truth would make it better. Easier to deal with. Hell, as embarrassed as he was to admit it, he'd fantasized about going on to find his 'real' father and living happily ever after.

He suddenly felt very sick, and moved over into the lay-by, throwing up. He felt to shaky to continue, he leaned against a nearby tree, eventually sliding down it and just sitting there. Trying and failing to get a hold of himself.

He looked up when he felt his phone ringing. Only now realizing it was almost evening, and he'd been sitting there for something close to seven hours. He rubbed at his eyes, surprised when his fingers came away wet, and shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself.

He pulled the phone out, it was Steve.

"How's your head feelin'?" He asked in his usual tone, happy when his voice sounded normal if a little dry, only now realizing how incredibly thirsty he was.

"Like yours did yesterday, I'm guessing. Lisa's heavy metal music phase made a very loud, one day only, return," Complained Steve, Tim didn't trust himself to laugh.

"Sounds like you had a pleasant day then," Muttered Tim. There was a silence, he could already predict what Steve was going to say.

"Are you okay? You sound a little off."

"I'm fine, just tired," Replied Tim, he didn't even have to make an effort to spin the lie anymore, he'd probably said that sentence more times in his life than most people said "hello".

He knew Steve wouldn't buy it, but he also knew that Steve wouldn't push it either.

"My mom got a letter from the school today," Started Steve, "I'm obliged to show up tomorrow, or 'else'. Wanna come with?"

Tim considered it, on the one hand he really didn't want to. On the other hand it would be a nice change of pace, and he didn't feel like hanging around feeling miserable all day tomorrow, too. It wasn't so bad either, the teachers had stopped giving him a hard time a while ago, when they got sense of what was actually going on. Some tried to encourage him, others just ignored him. He personally prefer the later, he hated the whole 'I feel sorry for you but there's nothing I can do' look.

He agreed he'd come and hold Steve's hand for his first day back at school, Steve denied the fact that he wanted help although he was secretly thankful.

Tim pulled himself up, feeling good enough to walk and emotionally stable enough to pretend nothing ever happened. He started walking home, slowly.

They walked through the school gates together, past a very mean looking Bosco who Tim made a mock salute to and Steve in turn looked at Tim as if he was insane. Tim just gave him a 'you don't want to know' sort of smile and continue walking.

They had to separate off when the bell rang, having different classes to attend, but arranged to meet at lunch time.

When Steve finally made it out of his History class, feeling incredibly sleepy, he spotted Tim just down hall. He was chatting to Tina, who seemed to be giggling. He did a double take and shook his head.

Initially Steve had been, maybe still was, a little bit jealous of Tim having a much easier time than he with girls. He understood it though, Tim unintentionally made them laugh with whatever comment he felt like making, along with his usually unconcerned attitude made him come over as hugely confident. Steve on the other hand was not so good with strangers, or people in general, and if he happened to be interested in someone, he'd usually just stutter like an idiot for a few minutes then excuse himself and leave.

He caught up to Tim once Tina had left with her friends, and said before thinking any better, "Shit, I'd love to be you for a day."

He then realized what he said and gave Tim an apologetic look, Tim didn't seem bothered though, as usual, he just raised his eyebrows at Steve.

"What did she want?" Asked Steve, as they walked out of the building.

"To know why I didn't call her," Replied Tim, shrugging.

"Wait. She gave you her number? You didn't tell me that,"

"Didn't really seem important," Muttered Tim, Steve disagreed, as far as he was concerned Tim should go for this, he sure as hell would if he was in Tim's place.

"You never follow through, it's unbelievable. Remember that chick who came down here on holiday from NY last summer? Mia? She was totally into you, too," Insisted Steve, getting a sideways glance from Tim, "And then there was Christina, not as good looking, but not bad either, and Debra, damn she was really-"

"Can you please shut up?" Snapped Tim, Steve looked up, a little shocked. Tim hardly ever snapped, nor had he really thought he'd been saying anything to annoy him.

"Tim?" Tried Steve, Tim had turn his back to him, "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"Yeah, that much was pretty obvious," Snarled Tim, he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and turned back to face Steve, half regretting how harsh he'd been, half regretting how harsh he was about to be, "You think I enjoy it? Really? Did it ever occur to you that maybe it has something to do with being in agony as soon as anyone touches me? No, 'course it fuckin' didn't."

Tim walked away, leaving a stunned Steven to stare at his back, still not knowing what to say. He stormed out of the school ignoring everyone, not stopping until he was around the corner from the gate.

"Shit," He muttered to himself as he leaned against the wall. This wasn't suppose to happen. He was supposed to keep a lid on it. Make a joke and change the subject, not blow up like that.

He took a deep breath and made himself keep walking, telling himself it'd wear off, the same way everything else had, he just had to stay clear of other people until he could get a grip.

He walked for a long time, not really paying attention to where he was going, didn't really matter anyway. He heard a car coming up behind him, he ignored it until it pulled up next to him, the passenger side window rolled down and the driver leaned over.

"Get in, I'll give you a lift," Said Lisa, she had been smiling but she stopped when she realized how very wrong Tim looked. There was no pedophile joke, or sarcastic remark, or well anything, he just shook his head and continued walking.

She started up again, so that the car was on a level with him again, "Seriously, I'm not going to repeat myself. Get in."

He didn't continue walking but didn't make any other move either, she sighed, "Look, you can either get in, or I can keep following you, your choice."

He shrugged and got in, keeping his eyes towards the window.

"What happened?" She asked, fully expecting the answer she received.

"Nothin',"

"Then why do you look like you want to throw yourself off a bridge?"

He laughed, she looked over at him, "If I wanted to kill myself, findin' a bridge seems like a lot of trouble when I could just go home and make a couple of sarcastic comments."

She slammed the breaks on, looking at him straight in the eye. "That isn't funny. Not in the slightest."

He shrugged, rolling his eyes, "Can I leave now?"

"Nope," She started driving again, "You're going to come and stay at home for a few days at least. Mom won't be back for a while it seems."

Tim winced, she noticed and gave him a questioning look.

"Pretty sure I'm no longer on speaking terms with Steve..."

"Sure you are," She reassured, smiling, "Why'd you think I drove out this way?"

"He called you?" Asked Tim in disbelief, feeling pretty guilty now.

"Uh huh."

When they got to the house Lisa put a huge plate of food in front of Tim, ordering him to eat, then made him go to bed despite his protests about not being tired. It turned out he was wrong and she was right, he fell asleep only a few seconds after his head hit the pillow.

He woke up a couple of hours later, feeling a little better. He got up and was headed downstairs, but when he reached the top of the staircase he could hear Lisa and Steven's voices, not well enough to hear what they were saying, but enough to make the guilt come back.

He stood there for a few seconds, he knew he should go down there, talk to them, he knew Steve understood why he'd snapped...But on the other hand, if he did that, they'd make him stay here, at least for the next few days.

He loved staying in this house, hell he'd move in any day, if he could. He'd had a week or two living here before, when things had gotten out of hand back home, but what they never understood was how bad that made the inevitable trip home. Sometimes it was just easier not to know there was an alternative if there no chance of taking it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he finally made his decision, going back to the bedroom he pulled on his jacket and picked up his bag, then made for the bathroom as it was the easiest window to climb out from.

He'd call by and apologize some other time, but right now he felt he needed alone time, not visions of what his life actually should be like.

Tim had made it back home, and been discreet enough on his way in. He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a tap at his bedroom window. He ignored it, thinking it must have been a disorientated bat or something. After the third time, however, he could no longer ignore it. He got up, opened the window and peered out.

He saw Steve standing under the window looking up at him with a stupid grin on his face, the one he'd get when he knew he was supposed to be angry but somehow couldn't quite manage to stay that way.

"How romantic," Groaned Tim, trying not to return the smile but failing.

"Any chance I can come up, Juliette?" Asked Steve, Tim nodded.

"You may," He motioned to the tree, "Whether you can or not, I wouldn't like to say."

Steve pretended to be offended and started climbing up. He didn't do too badly, but Tim did have to catch him when he finally got to the level of the window.

They exchanged a look once they were both on solid ground, Tim feeling a little awkward again.

"Look, I'm sorry about-" He started.

"Oh, shut up," Interrupted Steve, "You don't have to apologize, I get it," He paused, "Actually I don't get it at all, but let's just say I accept it. Just..." He looked around the room, as if what he was trying to say would just pop up in front of him, "Maybe actually tell me if you're having a bad day, well, a _really_ bad day. So I know."

"Alright," Agreed Tim, "This worked out quite well though, your little stunt just now actually kinda cheered me up."

"Oh, c'mon, it wasn't t_hat_ bad!" Complained Steve, "Plus it's dark!"

"Uh, whatever you need to tell yourself, man," Replied Tim, laughing.

They heard a noise inside the house and realized they'd stopped whispering once they'd closed the window.

Tim cursed under his breath as he heard his dad yell at him asking what was going on up there.

"Nothin'" He shouted back, then turned to Steve, "You gotta go, he'll be coming up now."

Sure enough they heard the bottom stair creak. Steve frowned, "Hell no, this is my fault, what's he gonna do if I'm here?"

"Probably think I'm gay. Please?" Steve cringed, he'd never seen Tim look scared before. Still he didn't want to leave Tim to suffer for what he'd caused.

The steps got closer, and before Steve could protest he was shoved into the closet, the door shut behind him. He could hear Tim's father asking what all the noise had been about.

"Had the radio on," Lied Tim, Steve cringed in apprehension as he heard the heavily dragged footsteps come further into the room.

"Fuckin' woke me up," Complained Tim's father, Steve didn't need any visual to understand what happened next, it took everything he had not to burst out and attempt to kill the man himself. The only thing holding him back being the fact that Tim would probably never speak to him again if he did.

He wanted until the door had shut again and the sound of footsteps got further away before he let himself out.

"You okay?" He asked Tim, who had obviously just got up and was still holding a hand to his stomach.

"Sure," Replied Tim, surprising Steve by smiling, "He's in really good mood tonight, must have gone to Susan's."

Steve decided not to object to Tim's definition of someone being in a good mood being that they'd only hit their son once for making a minimal amount of noise, and asked a different question instead, "The whore house?"

Tim nodded, "Seriously, I'd pay for him to go there everyday." Tim frowned as he looked at Steve, "Can you stop looking like that?"

"Like what?" Asked Steve, as Tim shuffle over to take a seat on his bed, hand still holding his stomach.

"Like your dog just got run over while you were on a trip to Disneyland and then Mickey Mouse came along kicked you in the balls."

"You have surprising imagery," Muttered Steve, as he played the scene out in his head. It did more or less sum up how he felt. Sure, he'd known, before, but he'd never actually witnessed it, well been present. He had yet to actually see it. He really didn't want to, he was pretty sure he'd throw up, or become a murderer, or maybe both. "You really... I mean every time you go home...?"

Tim gave him an annoyed look, "That conversation we had about not talkin' about this shit-"

"Well maybe you should talk, to someone, doesn't have to be me-"

"Everyone keep sayin' that. I'm not the one with the problem. Tell him," He pointed at the door, "To go to AA. Far as I know there is no Child Abuse Anonymous," Tim leaned back on the bed, groaning in the process, "I'm gonna sleep now, if that's alright with you."

**A/N: Hope you liked it, despite everything. Things'll look up in the next one, I'm sure.  
Thanks for reading/reviewing! **


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